


Hysteria

by Sinsrose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathing in blood, Biting, Bloodplay, Bruises, M/M, Rough Sex, S/D
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 21:53:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinsrose/pseuds/Sinsrose





	Hysteria

Blood is thicker than water. It’s the words that have always come off of the elder Winchester’s lips. This holds true even now, even when things have been so far lost and muddled because of what their life has made of them. Demon blood coursing through Dean’s veins, the incurable sickness that makes him the monster he’d never dream he’d become. He became corrupted after he had gone to hell, something had changed inside him, something had become inhuman, made him this creature. His blood mixed with demon blood, the circumstances aren’t clear why he became what he did. Dean has been fighting it ever since came back from hell, whatever had merged with his blood. 

 The hunter exhales deeply. However his blood isn’t the only thing that has been affected, Sam’s mind has been twisted to a point of no return. Neither of the hunters know when this befell them, it just happened. Something twisted them to a darker purpose, something made them like this. Dean doesn’t know for sure for Sam, but he knows, Dean knows that his blood is tainted by something foul. The demon that’s in his veins that he cannot scrub clean no matter how hard he tries to wash it out of him. But something tells him, that Sam, his own brother doesn’t want him to get rid of it. 

Somewhere between coming back from Hell and Dean giving his soul up for Sam made both of them twisted. Sam he’s been different. At first Dean didn’t notice because he was so focused on himself, and feeling the rush of his own blood, and the trembles that ripped through him when his skin crawled. His skin that seemed to pull at his pulse and itch like a bite that he couldn’t get rid of or a rash. Dean had tried to ignore that but the burning got even worse, and he squirmed more in his own skin.  It wasn’t until after he stopped thinking about the burning in his skin that he began to pick up on how dark Sam had became.  

Their hunting stopped making sense. They stopped making sense. They stopped trying to fight the monsters, they ended up on the same side as them. They’d slaughter people- hunters and monsters alike. It was a bloodbath, and Dean never had realized it until now. When Sam had his fingers around a knife blood spraying from a slit throat soaking him in the blood and the knife. And yet it didn’t bother Dean like it should have, he didn’t care that Sam was murdering people. His mind didn’t seem to process it, he seemed to think it was alright and human. Dean decided then he was going to hell no matter what even if he had deemed himself as pure at one point, which mind you was never going to happen anyway. What the Winchesters did as a living, saving people, hunting things, the family business, stopped having meaning to the both of them. 

They were **_c o r r u p t ed._**  

Beyond impure.  Everything had become twisted in a sense of no return, which made sense sort of, when Dean thought about it or did it? Dean was caught right now though staring at the fact that his brother was drenched in blood and seemed to love it. Things had changed shortly after that. Dean had figured out that both of them had been damned and things were far more corrupted than a mind could wrap around. Time seemed to follow like water, and Dean found himself working in hell after an event that completely changed him, made the monster in him emerge. 

The demon that had been clinging in his blood came out to play.  The hunter hadn’t even processed the change; it was if this sinned life had been normal, the fact that his brother was boy king, the fact that he actually ruled Hell never sank in. It never processed because Sam took the outermost care in making sure Dean was cared for and treated almost human by him. Not letting his demonic nature hurt his precious older brother. Sam ruled with an iron hand, not putting up with demons even whispering of rebellion or other things, no one ever lived long enough to tell the tale. 

Which leads us to our story 

**                                                           N O W. **

 

Sam’s bare feet hit the chambers floor in Hell with a light thump, his feet sweeping across the tile work, that lead down into an open bath. Though the purpose itself wasn’t for a water bath, it was more or less bathed in blood.  As messed up and disturbing it was, Sam seemed to thrive off these things, his eyes flickering past the golden yellow color to almost a reddish black, his humanity was long gone. He’d been in Hell living as boy king far longer than anyone would have imagined him to at least.

Demons had a certain appearance, one that was their true nature much like the angels. But it varied depending on the demon and the person, and what type of demon they were but none the less demons didn’t look the same in nature. No two had the same form when revealed to the eyes. Sam, chose only to reveal his nature when doing these “bloodbaths” and being around Dean.  Dean was everything to him, family, brother, lover, his. His and his **_a l o n e._** Sam allowed himself to relax, feeling the heat in his blood rush, the burn of blood under his core. Ensnarling him like a cat in heat as he released himself, as he made his way down the tiles and leaned against the cool china. 

Two horns curling from his head, long hair framing his face, his eyes a rich haze. His wings hidden from view, only admitting his horns to show in a place like this, he exhaled deeply, fingers touching over the scythe sitting in the tub. Watching as a demon was hanging from above, hung and helpless like a pig to slaughter, a wicked grin curling onto the boy king’s lips as he watched them squirm. Pale fingers touching the scythe holding it, as mere candlelight was illuminating the room. “What a treat? What a treat indeed,” The boy king muttered his voice like silk, yet sounding as rough as diamonds. His fingers coursing over the blade with another wicked grin.

He could hear the sharp whimpers escaping the harlot’s mouth, it made his eyes only seem to darken, almost amused by the noises. None the less this was all for him, the richest blood, the second best to his mates to bath in. All for him, always for him. Dean did whatever he asked of him, he always did. Always. The boy king let out a deep sigh, picking up the weapon,  his eyes darkening slightly as he looked upwards, dragging the blade across the skin as a tease the metal making sounds across the skin, making more noises escape the wenches mouth, he had no use for such demons. 

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned.”

It was a wicked grin that fell upon his lips as he spoke those words, the metal colliding with the skin tearing the flesh open, ripping it apart. Blood began to drip downwards due to the angle the wrench was hanging from, the steady flow of droplets falling into the tub, and spattering the white china with the maroon liquid. Sam breathed out in a sort of ecstasy,  blood hitting his bare body as if it was a sin all in itself, he shuddered slightly his eyes closing and his mouth slightly parted, the taste of sin on his lips. The taste of the burgundy liquid that was drenching his pores and the tub. 

Another slice. More blood, it soaked though everything, dripping down the wrench, who was screaming, back flowing like a bottle of water, like a river of blood. Sam let himself fall lax against the tub, blood dripping over his entire bare body, fingers just barely holding the scythe at his side. The sticky liquid gushing across his snowy skin, dying it a rich crimson color. It was the purest sin to him, it was the perfect sin. The perfect desire for filled for him. Hazy eyes opened back up, ones that held bloodlust and desire nothing but that. His fingers letting the scythe one more break the body above him, letting the rest of the blood fall into the tub and cover him completely. 

He smelt of demon blood, and that was heaven to him, the sweetest scent of blood, he let out a soft groan, his fingers touching over the familiar heated organ, stroking over his length. Pupils turned a reddish yellow from need and bloodlust, letting out these breathes that seemed to hitch as his bloodstained fingers ran over his cock. The feeling of pleasure shot though his core like liquid fire, fingers smeared with demon blood, not of his own stroking in places that shouldn’t be touched with blood. He let out a soft groan, fingers jerking across the skin, scrabbling up and down to give himself friction, his other free hand managing to smear blood over his nipples as he teased them, soft noises escaping his lungs.  

This was in every human sense _wrong_.

            Footsteps echoed across, another demon coming into the room where the boy king was lost in his own pleasure. Lost enough but aware enough to hear the stranger, but a grin danced on his features. Sam tilted his head back, lips falling open in an open moan, fingers dancing across his cock once more letting out a low moan, one that wasn’t wanton, but one of pleasure and desire. A heat in his stomach pooling as he looked towards blackened eyes, possibly black as night as he gazed at them. 

“You started without _me_?” 

It was more of a taunt, and a tease than anything, from the other demon, from his brother. Footsteps as smooth as feathers touched across the tiles, leading down to his younger sibling, footsteps slow but steady as he made his way down bare himself to the bloodbath. The boy king looked up himself, eyes focusing on the demon, his fingers going to touch upon unstained skin leaving a bloody print in his wake as he touched the skin. His lips parting ever so slightly, as he gazed into the familiar black eyes, one hand wrapped around his cock. 

“I would never, my knight.” 

It was a delicate purr from the boy king’s lips. Dean hovered over his brother, his fingers twining though brunette locks, body sliding up against the boy kings. His lips going to meet the delicate skin, nipping softly at first before sucking, tasting the iron remains of the demon that tasted like sin, and shot a heat down his skin all at once. He had no objection to Sam ever doing this. In fact he enjoyed this as much as the boy king did. The bloodshed and the feel of the slick blood across the skin. Sam tilts his head upwards, his lips meeting his demons, the touch seeming like gentle lovers at first but it doesn’t stay long like that. 

The kiss becomes rougher as Dean slips his body into the bloody boy king’s lap. The bloody sticky to his skin, and he can feel the blood still flowing downwards from the dead harlot wench above tainting his skin.  Dean’s teeth tug the king’s lower lip, sucking and biting sharply letting Sam groan out, his arms wrapping around Dean’s neck pulling him even closer, their bodies flush against one another. Deep groans escape their throats; Dean’s nearly dry humping him as the wet presence of his tongue invades the other’s mouth. He can taste the sharp sweet iron that nearly brings Dean to his knees.  

The heat is primal urge surging though their veins like a moth to a flame. The demon’s eyes flicker black upon glancing upon his boy king. Their lips locked in what seems to be a purging kiss, one that lacks the innocence and ignorance of the world. Teeth, blood tongue, lapping, meeting of lips, stained with the blood of a whore. The greatest sin and pleasure for them both, and it lacks conviction. Fingers slip into blood drenched hair, pressing if not closer, letting a soft noise escape from an open mouth, urging his tongue inside the others mouth tasting the fresh blood.  Primal instinct urges them to play their dance, fingers tugging at locks, eyes like coals staring back a yellowed honey like eyes. Spit dyed pink is revealed as they pull their mouths apart, the demons forehead resting upon the boy kings, letting out a deep noise of pleasure. 

“Perfect little knight.”

It sounds like it’s part of the air, the voice. Low controlled, yet has a sense of power, one that seems ageless when it’s not.  Pink lips stained with tainted blood make a trail down the skin of the boy king. Lips like roses touching across skin, leaving a shouldering, burning feeling in the wake of the touches.  Bite upon bite is laid across the skin, leaving a trail of desire and pleasure in the wake. The marred skin leaves a pretty contrast across china like skin underneath the blood and gore. The taste of iron is heavy in his mouth, like a weight but a desired one at that. Groans escape the boy king’s lips, fingers digging into shoulders, marring the skin, making his marks upon his consort. 

“Look so good like that, all marred up like that. You’re all mine. Only **_m i n e_.”**

Dean whispers possessive his eyes flickering a darker shade of black, hearing the noises, the noises that are beyond erotic from Sam’s throat.  They’re slathered in blood the rich maroon liquid that leaves the rich iron smell that flows like water.  Gore tarnished skin, the impurity and transgressed bloodline running though their veins snared them in such a haze driven heat like primal animals.  Sam’s fingers leave crescent marks upon his back, the marks of ownership that leave Dean’s heart fluttering in a rapid beat. 

Words aren’t exchanged between the king and the consort. The air lingers with a silence one that seems to run though the very essence of the air for moments that feels unreal, and not human. Breathing can be heard just barely, the eyes of the boy king and the knight meeting, lust seeming only secondary but it’s more than secondary it’s a need. A heavy driven need that pools under the skin and captures the senses, the heartbeats laden with excitement.  Fingers drape across skin, scratching drawing marks, woven between the bloods of the harlot.  It makes pure crimson blood escape from the marks, staining the skin once more with blood. 

Hands grab at heated flesh, touching over the fiery skin, hot with the passion of their lust. Sam’s bloodied lips meet the demons in a blood stained kiss, his pink tongue flicking over the sensitive flesh of Dean’s lower lip. Hands tangling into bloody locks, fingers yanking and tugging, throaty noises emitting from pale pink lips stained with the darkest hues of blood.  Another set of hands pulls the other flesh across his skin, across his lap, the heated skin of his erection pressing against the curve of his ass.  They part for a brief moment almost seeming human to breathe, but they are so far from human by the apparent blood and gore drenching them, and drying upon their frames.

“All mine.”

It’s a greedy notion from the boy king as his hands grab ahold roughly of his counterparts and soulmate’s hips. Their lips meet in a rather greedy kiss, as the oldest of the pair is lowered onto his leaking cock. The feeling burns the other under his skin. His moans muffled by the other’s mouth, making these sounds that can be described as erotic whimpers. The stretching feeling is something that Dean will never get used to, demon or non-demon.  He bites sharply on the boy king’s lip, letting out this broken noise that’s muffled by the wet press of the king’s mouth.  

The demon shifting to make himself adjust to the burning feeling under his skin. The feeling that feels like liquid fire in his veins that wraps around his very core smoldering and burning until he can’t breathe anymore. There’s a parting of mouths once more, Dean exhaling sharply, spit connected their mouths, its raunchy the mere sight of it. The pair of brothers covered in blood, kissing, covered in the harlot’s blood, devouring it like its sin. Black pupil eyes meet yellowed eyes, in a blaze of what seems to be lust and bloodshed all in one look. 

When Dean moves the right way he cries out rather loudly, his hands digging into the flesh of the boy kings back, making his own marks. Sam takes the hint there and then. It’s not often like this, a rapid, raw fuck. That’s the blunt way of saying it. Embracing the natures that they have become, the searing feeling that ignites their bones, pleasuring them to the core, and making their insides feel like jelly.  Sam shifts his weight moving from Dean sitting on his lap, to the demon scrabbling against the tiles, fingers digging at the bloody tiles on his stomach letting out these noises. These whimpers that make Sam hum. 

“I wish you could see yourself, my pet, taking it like _this_.” 

Sam mutters against the shell of Dean’s ear biting down sharply as he slams into the demon once more. Lips tearing cries from them, because the boy king knows, he knows how to hit that one area, that makes everything go weak and jelly like. The area that makes you see eons behind your eyes, and see white and the stars above in your own vision. Dean can feel his cock, swollen and red pressing against the underside of his belly. It’s dripping oozing pre-cum, mingling with the blood, making the color seem fainter, the smell of blood and sex heavy in the air. 

Another thrust. Skin across skin, slapping, the wet sound of skin on skin, panting, heavy breathing. Moaning, whimpers, sounds that come out as low groans and are erotic and so sinful it could make someone weak at the knees. 

“I want to feel you.”

Groans, slap, louder moans. Harder movement, the touches heavier, more feeling and more desire in them. Bites across tanned skin, marking every inch of him, scars, blood, sweat, and sex mingling as one. The movement sends a flash of white down the demons spine. Noises, almost like begging on his tongue squirming under the grip of his king. 

“May I-”

It’s a breathy whisper from the elder of the brothers. “You may.”

White, purity flashes beyond black eyes. The shadows of sin retreating to the far corners of the mind, the embers of the heat dulling to small coals. It’s like a flare of a rocket that goes off within him as he comes, with a groan and strangled shouts, feeling the slick wetness of cum on his belly. It’s wet, warm and sticky, and he can feel it inside him. Dean slumps on the inside of the tub, panting, eyes flickering to the dull almost human hazel color with tints of black.  He’s covered in blood and cum, drenched in sex and blood.  Yellowed eyes are staring at him, almost amused. 

“Tired already pet? The night has just begun.”

He doesn’t even have to look back to know the wicked grin etched on the boy king’s face. 

                             It’s going to be a   **l o n g  n i g h t.**


End file.
